That just made my brain hurt. The dead didn’t talk. They didn’t moan or howl or whimper. They certainly weren’t capable of distinguishing between people of different nationalities-true believers in diversity, the dead were equal opportunity devourers.
“You have to help me,” the thing started but we heard a thumping sound then and looked back to see two of the dead-including the eyeless one who nearly got me by the stairwell-slamming up against the emergency room doors. There might have been more of them inside. It was too dark to tell.
“Ifiyah, we need to head back to the boat now,” I said but the commander had got there before me. She threw hand signals to her squads and with only a couple of barked words we got moving. Ayaan fell in beside me. “I thought you said you got them all,” I told her, not feeling very generous at that moment.
“I thought I had,” she countered. She squinted back at the hospital but the doors held-the dead lacked the mental power to figure out they needed to pry the doors open instead of just pushing at them. “The twelve that ate mykumayo sisters are no more. I did not hear you firing in our defense. You are not a warrior, Dekalb, are you? At least we know that much.”
I grimaced and stepped up my pace to get away from her. I guessed correctly that she was too disciplined to break ranks. Moving ahead I caught up with the captive dead man and the girl soldier who held his leash-it was Fathia, the bayonet expert.
“Listen, just talk to them for me,” the dead man pleaded when he saw me.
As we turned ontoFourteenth Street I shook my head sadly. “What the hell are you? You’re not one of them, not really-”
“Yes, really,” he admitted, hanging his head. “I know what I am, you don’t need to humor me. That’s not all I am, though. I was a doctor, originally. Okay, okay, a med student. But I could help you guys-every army needs some doctors, right? Yeah, like on M*A*S*H! I can be your Hawkeye Pierce!”
The massacre in the hospital had left my imagination stoked up. “A doctor. Did you-did one of your patients attack you? Somebody you thought was still alive?”
“My name’sGary, by the way,” he answered, looking away from me. He held out his hand but I couldn’t bring myself to shake it. “Fair enough,” he said. “No, it wasn’t one of my patients. I did it myself.”
I must have blanched at that.
“Look-there didn’t seem to be any choice. The city was burning.New YorkFuckingCity was burning to the ground. Everybody else was dead. It was either join them or be their dinner. Okay?” When I didn’t answer he raised his voice. “Okay?”
“Sure,” I mumbled. This didn’t make any sense… except that it did. I had done terrible things to survive the Epidemic. I had entrusted my seven year old daughter to a Fundamentalist warlord. I had locked up my dead wife and just abandoned her. All because it seemed like the logical choice at the time. What if it had been me, alone?
“I’m a physician, like I said, so I knew what was going to happen to me. I knew my brain would start to die the second I stopped breathing. That's why they're so stupid, post-mortem degeneration of nervous tissue. But I could protect my brain. I had the equipment. Christ, I bet I’m the smartest one on the planet right now.”
“The smartest of the undead,” I repeated.
“If you don’t mind, I prefer the termunliving.” He shot me a grin to show he’d been joking but his posture betrayed his cheer. He seemed so desperate and lonely-I wanted to reach out to him but come on. Even for a bleeding heart like me this was a stretch.